"Come out into the garden, Maud;" In whispered tones young Percy said: He but repeated what he'd read That afternoon, with soft applaud: A snatch, which for my same name's sake, He caught, out of the sweet, soft song, A lover for his love did make, In half despite of some fond wrong:-- And more he quoted, just to show How still the rhymes ran in his head, With visions of the roses red That on the poet's pen did grow. The poet's spell was on our blood; The spell of June was in the air; We felt, more than we understood, The charm of being young and fair. Where everything is fair and young-- As on June eves doth fitly seem: The Earth herself lies in among The misty, azure fields of space, A bride, whose startled blushes glow Less flame-like through the shrouds of lace That sweeter all her beauties show. We walked and talked beneath the trees-- Bird-haunted, flowering trees of June-- The roses purpled in the moon: We breathed their fragrance on the breeze-- Young Percy's voice is tuned to clear Deep tones, as if his heart were deep: This night it fluttered on my ear As young birds flutter in their sleep. My own voice faltered when I said How very sweet such hours must be With one we love. At that word he Shook like the aspen overhead: "Must be!" he drew me from the shade, To read my face to show his own: "Say _are_, dear Maud!"--my tongue was stayed; My pliant limbs seemed turned to stone. He held my hands I could not move-- The nerveless palms together prest-- And clasped them tightly to his breast; While in my heart the question strove. The fire-flies flashed like wandering stars-- I thought some sprang from out his eyes: Surely some spirit makes or mars At will our earthly destinies! "Speak, Maud!"--at length I turned away: He must have thought it woman's fear; For, whispering softly in my ear Such gentle thanks as might allay Love's tender shame; left on my brow, And on each hand, a warm light kiss-- I feel them burn there even now-- But all my fetters fell at this.